Marked – CORE Sector – Chapter 1
Sara Brodie hung limp against the restraints, her head bobbing to the left as the helicopter sliced through the clouds. The world outside was nothing but white and gray, a purgatory of mist and distance. The drug kept her quiet for now, but silence was a temporary mercy. Once it wore off, everything buried inside her would wake, too— the voices, the memories, the ghosts of what she’d done.
Marcus’s eyes locked on the horizon, his senses honed, barely acknowledging the tense figures seated behind him. The chopper cut through the dense clouds with relentless precision, skimming dangerously close to the turbulent waves below and the high cliffs where the compound was built into the rocky terrain. Lightning flared somewhere beyond the horizon, casting fleeting bones of light across the sea. The cliffs rose like the ribs of some drowned beast, bleak, eternal, and waiting.
Sara—once known as Suhrae, the infamous trafficker, CORE’s latest extraction, and the trailblazer of despair—sat ominously still. Even sedated, she seemed to radiate unrest, there was something feverish beneath her pallor, like embers smoldering under ash. Flanking her were two medics, their guarded postures betraying their dual roles as bodyguards, and a vigilant doctor tasked with the monumental challenge of managing Sara’s volatile mental state. Her sedation-induced silence, was a fragile peace, teetering as its effects waned, promising chaos at any moment. The mere presence of such a notorious figure set Marcus’s jaw into a steely clench, his mind a battlefield of nerves as he steered toward the isolated compound Bryce had grimly designated as her safe house.
Wind whipped through the narrow clearing as Marcus lowered the helicopter onto the pad. The compound loomed ahead, half-concealed among Taransay’s jagged cliffs. The place was a concrete fortress of sorts, built to disappear into the rocks. But what struck Marcus now was its prison-like effect. And that was exactly what Sara deserved.
By the time Marcus set the helicopter down on the remote island, a cold wind swept across the rocky cliffs, carrying the faint tang of salt and something more metallic, like rust or old blood. The compund loomed through the mist, the few windows were dark and blind. Salt crusted the stone walls like old scars, and the wind keened through the cracks as if the island breathed.
The sedatives administered to Sara had started wearing off, and the uneasy calm that had quieted her during the flight was slipping. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, fingers twitching against the restraints as a low murmur grew into frantic, muffled cries. Shadows from the jagged rocks seemed to creep closer with each passing moment, and Marcus felt a chill run down his spine, as if the island itself were watching.
“Get these off me!” Her scream tore through the dull roar of the rotor, sharp and hollow, swallowed by the cabin’s metallic chill. The lights flickered throwing fractured shadows over her face until she looked half human, half monster, someone caught between worlds. She writhed against the harness, skin scraping against the cruel leather, eyes wide with terror that seemed to echo from the very walls. Shadows shifted with the strobing lights of the instrument panel, turning the small space into a cage of dark shapes. When she caught Marcus’s glance over his shoulder, hope died before it could form. There was only the icy certainty of being utterly trapped. “Let me go, damn you!” she shrieked, her voice raw, vibrating with fear and fury that no one could hear.
The medic seated across from her shot a wary look at Marcus, signaling to the other medic for the tranquilizer syringe. Marcus’s gaze stayed on Sara. It felt like he was looking into the eyes of a woman battling with ghosts he couldn’t see. But sometimes, when her eyes darted toward him, he wondered if she saw his ghosts, too–the faces that still surfaced in his dreams, unburied by duty. Even knowing her history didn’t lessen the tightness in his chest as he watched her struggle.
“Keep her still,” he ordered, his tone clipped, wrestling with his own frustration. Sara was a mission—a burden that had come with its own terrifying risks. Yet there was something in her expression that made him falter, something almost pleading beneath her rage.
“Let go!” Her voice cracked as she lunged against the medics restraining her, eyes blazing with a mixture of hate and terror.
“Stand down, Sara,” Marcus said, his voice firm, though inside, his patience wore thin. “If you’re going to fight, it’s against yourself, not us.”
At his words, something flickered in her eyes—recognition, perhaps even relief, before fading into guarded wariness. For a split second, Marcus could almost see through the mask of terror she wore, and he was seized by a strange, unwelcome sympathy. But it was gone in an instant.
“Sedate her,” he ordered the lead medic, steeling his voice as his gaze hardened.
The medic moved to administer another dose, but Sara’s hand shot out, her reflexes faster than he expected. She seized his wrist, nails digging into his skin, as her fierce stare met Marcus’s with a glint of hatred.
“You think you can control me?” she hissed, her words like venom. “You’re no different from them. Weak and afraid.”
The medic’s needle clattered to the floor as she twisted free, but before she could move further, Marcus and two guards were on her, pinning her arms to her sides. Her glare was unyielding, a raw, unfiltered rage that somehow, Marcus knew, had nothing to do with him.
With a sharp, precise jab, the medic injected her, and slowly, Sara’s body went slack, the defiance in her eyes dimming until her head lolled back, eyes closed. Marcus let out a long breath, motioning for the medics to carry her to the waiting vehicle. He followed, forcing his own unsettled thoughts to the back of his mind.
As they settled her in the golf cart used for loading supplies to the compound, Marcus climbed in beside her, signaling the driver to head to the main entrance. He turned to the lead medic, who was still pale from the struggle.
“We can’t keep this up,” the doctor, who was sent with them, muttered, echoing the doubts already gnawing at Marcus. “Sedatives are only a stopgap, not a treatment.”
Marcus gritted his teeth. The trauma Sara carried with her wasn’t something he could overlook; it shadowed her, tainting every word, every look she gave him. But it was also a threat—one he couldn’t underestimate.
“Do what you can,” he said, his tone cold with restraint. “Until then, keep her secure.”
Inside the compound, it was dark, the stark overhead lights humming as the door sealed behind them. Moisture clung to the walls, and the scent of mildew and stone gave the air a cold weight. The corridors stretced too long, their echo swallowing footsteps as if the place had forgotten how to sound human. Marcus gave her a hard look, his expression mirroring the resentment that had festered since he’d been handed this assignment.
As the medics carried her into the building and headed down the hall, Sara became irate, yelling at them and fighting to free herself. “This is a prison. You can’t keep me here!”
Marcus stepped in front of her. “You’re here because Bryce decided you might be useful at some point,” he said, voice low but cutting. “Don’t mistake this place for anything other than what it is—a cage.”
She raised her chin, her gaze defiant. “I don’t need to be reminded, Marcus. I know why I’m here.”
The bitterness in her tone struck him, though he hid any reaction. She could resent her situation all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change his judgment. This woman had trafficked in suffering, and he’d be damned if he’d let her manipulate him with the vague look of guilt she wore now.
“You’re getting a chance to be saved from what you’ve become,” he said, motioning for the medics to take her to a room down the hall. “Get her settled in and restrained.”
Sara watched him with an unreadable look as he walked over to the first room full of surveillance screens lining the wall. The feeds covered the perimeter, a reminder of just how isolated they were.
“I don’t need a lecture,” she said over her shoulder as the men escorted her down the hall, her voice tight, betraying a flash of the anger he knew simmered beneath her still, despite everything. “I’ve made my choice.”
“Yeah?” He crossed his arms, barely containing his frustration. “You need to make a better choice.”
Her expression darkened, but she looked away, focusing on some invisible point down the hall. He let the silence settle between them, an unspoken reminder of the life she’d left behind. Whatever regrets she harbored, they were her burden to bear.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to believe me. I didn’t ask for your forgiveness.”
Marcus ground his teeth, the weight of his resentment bearing down on him. He turned down another hall, forcing himself to shut out the sliver of pity her words stirred in him. She wasn’t his concern beyond this duty. No amount of remorse or regret could erase her past. Still, as the door closed behind her, the air seemed to tighten, as though the walls themselves were listening, keeping her secrets, and his.
Available end of 2025